Walking the downtown city streets makes me wish I were in New York.  It’s something about taking an official pardon from the suburbanite ambiance that ignites an almost nostalgic feeling as skyscrapers tower so far above, swallowing everything else below. 

Faces I’ve never seen, 376859 conversations muddling into the background while groaning engines and blaring horns pulse into the fading bass of car stereos.  Lolling about the Loop is always something of the unexpected as vendors, boutiques, vintage shops, and eclectic wonders commingle with the cultural stream.

Note to self… Blueberry Hill is great.

Threading around the cappuccino/pastry perfume that billows from the bustling sidewalk cafés, the couple sitting next to us is having a heated argument… fueled by something everyone tries to ignore. 

But of all the places we (my mother and I) could have gone, I wonder why we always end up with expensive latte concoctions in hand, reading interesting paper cup rants. 

The way I see it… I’m thinking, Starbucks, you gotta love it.